


London Rain

by Writcraft



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bisexual Louis, Blow Job, Boys In Love, Coming Out, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Phone Sex, Referenced Past Homophobic Slurs, Sex Toys, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 06:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Anonymous online encounters seem like a good way for Louis to explore his growing interest in men. Having phone sex with Nick Grimshaw was not part of the plan.





	London Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kingsip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingsip/gifts).



> I decided to use a 2018 draft as a base for lovely [kingsipning](https://kingsipning.tumblr.com/)'s fabulous prompt of "Tomlinshaw, hand kink and desperation" for my Festive 500s challenge. That means this fic is way longer than the 500 words planned and it's also in no way festive. I hope you enjoy it, Kingsipning and I know this wasn't the short ficlet you were expecting so just take your time with it no rush to read! I hope you like it when you do, thanks for your wonderful comments in 2018.
> 
>  **Note:** The 'mistaken identity' tag is because Nick thinks Louis is a stranger when they're doing stuff over the phone. It's all highly consensual and Nick isn't really cross about it when he realises, but better to warn for it just in case!

It’s hard, choosing a fake name. Louis stares at the screen before putting his phone to one side. He makes a cup of Yorkshire, just how he likes it. Not too much milk, no sugar and just on the cusp of over-brewed. This is the fifth app he’s tried and it’s expensive, but less daunting than some of the others. It doesn’t have the same kind of vetting process some of the ‘celebrity’ apps need, which is good. There’s no way Louis is ready to put himself out there for the world to see. He just wants to chat to someone first. Perhaps find another bloke who’s new to this too. People seem to be using normal names, which is another bonus. The other sites were all _CockSucker69_ and code Louis doesn’t even understand. He’s not sure he’s ready to start putting labels on anything when ‘straight’ is the main one he uses in public. He’d quite like to try fucking someone of the same gender before he tells the world whether he’s a top, a bottom or somewhere in between.

With sweaty hands and his heart pounding in his chest, Louis finishes his tea and finds a photograph online of a blond about his age. He spends another ten minutes trying to choose a profile name. Eventually, it comes to him. Tomlinson. Tommo. _Tom_. He puts down some innocuous interests like _Oasis_ and _football_ , carefully avoiding any details around what he’s looking for, because the truth is he has no idea. He can’t meet someone in person without giving himself away and the idea of meeting a stranger in a busy bar or restaurant makes everything hot and claustrophobic. He’s not sure he’s there yet. Chatting online is better than nothing. Better than ignoring the voices in his head getting louder every day, and the need that crawls through him. He loves his fans. Loves the adrenaline that spurs him on when he's on stage. He's so fucking grateful for everything he has, but trying to work out who the fuck you are can be exhausting in the spotlight. He just wants to try things quietly, first. Be a nobody, have a chat. Not get the tabloids involved in his business before he's got the words right in his head.

He puts _music industry_ down for job sector. Louis knows enough about the work that goes into producing music and managing bands to come up with a low-level role that won’t sound too fancy if he’s pushed by someone. When he finishes putting together a profile that gets as close to the truth as he can without exposing his identity, Louis spends the night scrolling through profile pictures. His skin warms at the accounts with more explicit photos attached. It feels like when he goes off on Twitter in a moment of recklessness. A nervous excitement pumps through his body and leaves him wired and wide-awake despite the time.

After getting a few messages he doesn’t bother responding to, Louis sees a familiar face on his screen. _Grimmy_. It’s a good picture. A black and white photo of Nick smiling at the camera. Louis takes in the slope of Nick’s smile and his stomach does an unexpected lurch at Nick’s large hands and strong forearms. Christ. Louis taps out a message and hits send. 

_might want to choose a picture of someone less famous, mate_

Louis bites his lip and stares at his phone, adding _bet he wouldn’t appreciate you using his name to get a shag_. 

Louis switches off his lights, switches off his phone and goes to bed.

*

Louis showers, makes a cup of tea and puts on the Breakfast Show before he checks his phone. It’s too early to be awake. Louis is a firm believer in no communicating before eleven, but sometimes his body clock is all off-kilter and no matter how hard he tries sleep just won’t come. It’s raining and misty outside, as if the day hasn’t quite managed to break. Louis gets back under the duvet, wishing he could just fucking _sleep_. The whole night was restless and disturbed by vivid dreams of Nick’s arm around his shoulders when they posed for pictures after the Breakfast Show. It feels like a lifetime ago. A blur of strong coffee and nervous energy, with Louis buzzing and Nick clearly trying so hard not to start another shitstorm on social media. It’s not even Nick’s voice on Breakfast now. Louis’ always liked Greg—top lad—but something about the light-hearted joking around makes him even more antsy.

Louis picks up his phone and checks his messages, seeing the notification from ‘Nick’ before he notices anything else.

**Friend of his are you?**

Louis glares at his phone. Whoever fake Nick is, he seems like a knob. Louis sends as vague and clipped a response as he can manage. _Might be_.

It doesn’t take long for fake Nick to reply. **I don’t think so, pet. I’m pretty sure I’d remember you.**

Louis rolls his eyes. He’s tempted to get Nick’s number off Harry and tell him some dickhead is pretending to be him online. He doesn’t, of course. That would involve having a conversation with Harry, which hasn’t happened in a while. It would also involve telling Nick exactly how Louis made this fascinating discovery. Louis gets hot at the thought and sends back another quick reply.

_I don’t give a fuck who you are, but I know you’re not Grimmy. I’m not a total twat_

Louis doesn’t even know Nick, not really. He knows that he never liked whatever the fuck Nick was doing with Harry. He knows he gets hot and unsettled around Nick, even when he’s trying to pretend he’s completely unphased. Louis doesn’t really know anyone like Nick. All his friends are into lads’ mags and strip clubs, so Louis just goes along with it. It’s not a lie, exactly. He’s just not telling the full truth. Louis likes girls too, after all. He always has. That’s why discovering he liked men so completely blindsided him and he spent a long time trying to pretend it didn’t exist. He told himself _everyone has weird fantasies_ and refused to acknowledge he would get hot and bothered over more than just the footie score during Match of the Day. 

Louis can’t remember when he first heard the word _bisexual_ but he remembers everything else. The panic, and the metallic taste in his mouth. The way his skin flushed hot as if something embarrassing had just happened. The pounding of his heart in his chest and the moment of _that’s it, that’s me_. Louis shoved it into a box in the farthest corner of his mind and got drunk and stupid, shagging women and keeping his mouth shut about his discovery. Louis always thought if he didn’t say it out loud, it might not be true. He didn’t want it to be true. It was all too big and scary to process. When he stopped panicking and plucked up every ounce of his courage, he spoke to Lottie about it and told his closest friends when they were three sheets to the wind, but he still hasn’t put any of it into practice. That’s what prompted setting up a profile on the dating app. It’s Louis trying to ease himself in gently, maybe have a chat with a fit lad and find out something which can ease the itch under his skin and the dull the noise in his head. He wants to take his time and the anonymity makes it feel safe. Less real, somehow. 

Louis looks at his phone and his stomach rolls at the response from fake Nick.

**It’s really me but I appreciate the concern**

There’s no way. No fucking _way_. Louis switches off his phone, makes himself a bowl of Coco Pops and turns the radio over to Capital, determined not to think about Nick Grimshaw for the rest of the day.

*

Louis goes out in the rain to get some fags from the local offy, pointedly ignoring his phone. He’s spent most of the morning thumbing at his guitar, writing a couple of song lyrics and trying to ignore the niggling voice questioning whether fake Nick really _is_ fake. Most of all he tries to quash down the excitement that flares in his belly at the thought of fake Nick being, well, not fake.

By the time it gets to five o’clock he’s out of cigarettes, ready for a can of something cold and itching to see if fake Nick has sent another message. Louis smokes a cigarette and turns his phone. He dismisses the notifications he doesn’t care about, sends three emails, responds to a couple of fans on Twitter and finally ( _finally_ ) lets himself check his conversation with ‘Nick.’

**Need me to convince you darling?**

The timestamp on the message shows it was sent shortly after Louis scoffed at the idea that he was speaking with actual Nick. He gets slightly hot at the _darling_ and imagines how the word might sound in Nick’s voice, low and filthy in his ear. It makes his trousers tight and he shifts on the sofa, adjusting himself and cursing his shitty impulse control.

 _Couldn’t care less love_ , Louis types back quickly. He’s glad he waited long enough to reply to suggest he really doesn’t care one way or another. He puts the phone down and flicks on the radio, switching back from Capital to Radio One. Nick’s familiar laugh crackles through the speaker and Louis tells himself he’s just listening to music, that’s all. It’s important to know what’s current, nothing wrong with putting the radio on in the afternoon.

He listens to Nick tell a story about Eileen—his mum, Louis remembers from previous shows—and laughs, despite himself. There’s something so Northern and relatable about Nick, and even the comforting twang of his accent makes Louis feel at home. Louis went through a phase of hating Nick. Even now a deep, restless jealousy coils and snaps within Louis when he imagines what it might be like to be able to say _this is me_ in public, without giving a fuck. He hates that he’s here creeping on the internet with weirdos and fake celebrities, rather than going out and getting off with blokes in the same way he would with girls. Nick’s confidence makes Louis irrationally angry, the desire to have the same kind of freedom burning through his veins. It’s unfair, because it’s not like anyone’s holding Louis back, except for himself. Louis is the victim of his own mind, his own thoughts, his own history. Things like _that’s so gay_ or _don’t be such a poof_ getting thrown around the school playground are still sharp in his mind and the memory tastes bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, really. The people that need to know do, but he just wants to explore it for himself without cameras shoved in his face.

Nick’s a Northern lad like Louis, and older too. He can’t believe Nick didn’t have to put up with some of the same, but he makes being gay look so easy. He makes being _famous_ look so easy, fitting seamlessly into the London party scene with a social circle full of famous people, just like Harry. Louis bets Nick doesn’t give two hoots about meeting the royals or getting caught up in conversation with someone posh at an awards bash. Louis hates all of that. He keeps close to friends who remind him of home and he can’t wait to get away from people who make him feel uncomfortable just because he doesn’t speak like he’s got a plum in his mouth. 

Louis stares at the picture of Nick, thinking about his reply. _As if you could text when you’re on the radio_

 **We definitely haven’t met**. Nick adds the crying laughing emoji. **You listening?**

 _Yeah_. Louis takes a breath and then types another message. _What’s the next song?_

 **Chainsmokers probably**. Nick adds an eye-roll emoji. Louis doesn’t see what’s so bad about the Chainsmokers. Nick’s a pretentious dickhead sometimes. 

_ha ha_

There’s a lull in the music and Nick says something nice about Annie Mac’s show later, his excitement palpable. Louis stretches out on the sofa and rolls on his stomach, listening. There’s something about the fond, affectionate humour in Nick’s voice that Louis really, really likes. 

**Troye Sivan next** flashes up on his phone and Louis’ heart quickens.

Nick’s voice filters into the quiet room. “I’ve been chatting to my mate Tom about this song. We’re _big_ fans of Troye Sivan. Here he is, with ‘My, My, My!’”

Panic wells within Louis and he switches off his phone. He doesn’t log into the app again for the rest of the night.

*

It’s the next evening and Nick’s show has long since finished, when Louis picks up his phone again and stares at the last message from Nick. He looks to see if there are any other pictures associated with the account, feeling a bit creepy. He’s glad there aren’t any pictures of Nick’s dick. He’s not sure what he would do with himself. He chews his thumbnail and then he finally taps back a response.

_Had to go yesterday. Liked the song._

**Good**. Nick sends his reply with a winky face. **Believe me now?**

Louis does, but part of him wants to push. His fingers are sweaty as he replies. _Send a selfie?_

The reply comes back quickly. It’s Nick on the sofa, smiling at the camera. His hair is soft and flat as if he’s just had a shower and left it free from products. He looks comfortable and relaxed, a half-smile curving at the corner of his mouth. Louis has the strangest desire to kiss his smirk away. God, when did he start fancying Nick bloody Grimshaw? Louis is a disaster. A fucking _disaster_.

_different sort of selfie to the ones I’ve been getting_

**I bet. Lots of dick pics?** Nick adds five aubergine emojis and Louis refuses to be charmed by it.

_loads_

_I don’t send those in case you’re wondering_

**wasn’t wondering**

**neither do I**

Louis settles on the bed and he runs his fingers down his stomach. A pleasant thrum of arousal runs through his body. With a muttered curse, he yanks back his hand. _No_. He’s not going to start doing that just because Nick’s profile picture makes him look fit, happy and exactly like the kind of person Louis would like to get his hands on. 

**what brings you on here?**

Louis thinks. He can’t exactly say he doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing and he’s hoping to meet someone who can help him work it out. 

_looking for love_. Louis adds the smirking emoji. 

**aren’t we all darling**. Nick adds the winking smiley. **Need to go to bed soon. Got to be up for a meeting about some telly thing**.

 _okay_. Louis thinks about adding something like _speak to you later_ , but he resists. He always does this. It’s ridiculous, how need wells within him until it consumes him. He doesn’t know what to do or how to play it cool. He doesn’t know if there’s some sort of gay etiquette that’s he’s probably already fucking up. Nick probably just wants a shag, he doesn’t want to take on all the issues that come with being a plus one to Louis Tomlinson. He doesn’t even know it’s Louis he’s speaking to.

Nick sends back a strong-arm emoji, the crying emoji and the waving hand.

Louis sends back a turtle, just because. Turtles are sick. He turns his phone face down on the bedside cabinet and it takes ages before he falls into a restless sleep.

*

**went to the gym today and nearly died**

_shouldn’t go to the gym then mate_

_show off_

Louis grins at his phone. He’s looked at Nick’s selfie so many times if it was a physical photo it would be all crumpled and old-looking. He can’t deny the way Nick’s large hand—placed in the centre of the shot, fingers splayed out on his chest—do certain things to Louis. He’s got a bit of a thing for that, if his internet search terms are anything to go by and Nick really does have good hands. He’s fallen into the routine of casual texts with Nick, flinching every time Nick uses the name _Tom_ and wondering how the fuck he’s going to get himself out of this one. He knows he should stop chatting to Nick, should find another lad that’s not famous, not to mention someone that has no connection whatsoever with Louis’ circle of friends. Nick’s not as close to home as his Donny mates or one of the boys, but he’s pretty fucking close. 

_send us another selfie?_

**starting to doubt me again or angling for cock shots?**

Louis bites back a groan at the thought.

_keep it clean mate_

**ha ha**

There’s another minute or two before the phone pings. Nick looks like he’s in bed, the pillows plump around him. He’s got a hand on his (bare) chest and he’s got his glasses on. He looks so fucking _good_. Silvery necklaces nestle in dark curls of chest hair and his expression is soft and sleepy. It makes Louis want to kiss him, and the rest. He swallows, before typing out boldly _wish I was there_.

**yeah?**

_yeah_

Louis swallows again.

_think I’d let you do all sorts to me_

Nick responds with a winky smiley. **I think I’d want to, love**.

Louis is half-hard already just thinking about it but he can’t bring himself to tell Nick. Instead he quickly taps out a _sister’s calling got to go_ and closes down the app they’ve been messaging through. He saves the picture to his phone hoping to fuck he doesn’t get hacked and stares at the new picture from Nick. After looking at the picture for long enough to feel like a weirdo, Louis mutters a curse and puts his phone on the side, face down.

His body heats and he slides his hand into his boxers, stroking himself to full hardness. He thinks about some of his favourite porn, the pictures from those lads mags that used to get him hard, sweaty and messy. He keeps chasing it back, that image of Nick in his bed. He keeps trying to push to one side the idea of Nick murmuring filth in his ear and taking Louis apart. With each stroke of his cock though, it’s Nick’s face that keeps coming back to him—Nick’s hands.

With a groan, Louis comes over his fist and he slides his hand out of his boxers. He rests his sticky fingers on his belly and tries to catch his breath.

“You’re a right fucking knob, Tommo.” He says out loud to his quiet room. “A right dickhead.”

Louis wipes his hand on his sheets, plumps his pillow and closes his eyes with a huff.

This thing. Whatever _this thing_ is, is getting to be a problem. 

A fucking big one.

*

Louis has another shit night and he finds himself dozing off into the afternoon. When he wakes up, Nick’s on the radio, his familiar voice filling the room. It’s like Louis can’t do anything these days without being reminded of Nick. He can’t even wank in peace. Flicking his finger up at the radio he turns it off, and pads into the kitchen to make some dinner. He sits in front of the telly, flicking through the channels until he finds something that looks like it’s going to have some decent car chases in it. He’s tempted to look for porn on the internet, but the thought doesn’t exactly get him going. His mind’s so full of the fact he’s texting Nick on a dating app, or hook-up app or whatever the fuck, Nick’s all he can think about.

The film, it turns out, is utter shit. No _Die Hard_ , that’s for sure. Bored, Louis switches off the telly and goes upstairs after dumping his dirty plate and cutlery in the sink with his breakfast bowl, three mugs of half-finished tea and a plate he used for his lunch of a ham and cheese sarnie and a pack of Quavers. He’ll deal with it tomorrow.

When he’s showered, cleaned his teeth and settled in bed, he picks up his phone, even as the voice in his head tells him he’s mad to think of doing this. It’s late, Nick’s probably out. With a pulse of desire running through him, Louis taps out a quick message to Nick.

_I could send you something if you wanted?_

To Louis’ surprise Nick responds almost immediately.

**something?**

_one of them pictures_

Louis can’t bring himself to type out what he wants to send so he uses the aubergine emoji as a very unsexy cop-out. There’s a long enough pause that he starts to worry he’s scared Nick off altogether, before another notification lights up his dark phone screen.

**thought you don’t do that?**

_I don’t. Just feel like it now_

**go on then**

Louis swallows. He can’t believe he’s about to do this.

_will you?_

**Nope. I don’t want my dick in The Sun**

_okay_

Louis is quite pleased Nick isn’t in the habit of sending dick pics. A strange fire flares in his chest when he thinks of other people getting to see Nick like that. Getting to touch him and taste him. Louis bites back a groan and slides his hand into his boxers. He’s already hard and his whole body is warm. He angles the phone, so it doesn’t get his more distinctive tattoos. He clicks a photograph and sends Nick a picture of his lower torso, the bulge in his cotton boxers all too obvious. He waits for a reply, his skin tingling and a wave of panic pulsing through him as he thinks about all the ways Nick might respond.

**very nice**

**want a hand sorting that out?**

Louis swallows and taps back quickly.

_might_

**want to take a call?**

Louis does, but he also doesn’t want Nick to recognise his voice. He thinks quickly and types back.

 _yeah but my flatmate is in_. He adds an angry emoji and the eye-rolling emoji for good measure, apologising to his fictional flatmate for being a dickhead.

**you don’t have to say anything**

**just put your hand on that pretty cock of yours and let me handle it**

Louis groans, sliding his hand back inside his boxers. He’s so hard, he already knows it won’t take long. He can’t believe he hasn’t done this before. Can’t believe it’s _Nick_ on the other end of the phone. Louis squeezes his fingers around his cock, his breathing ragged. He removes his hand and sends Nick his number, already breathless when the call comes through. Bloody Nick hasn’t even withheld his number. If Louis ever sees him in person without melting into a puddle of goo from embarrassment, he’s going to tell Nick not to trust idiots on a website just because it’s a bit more expensive than the usual ones.

“Hiya.” Nick’s voice is low, teasing and so achingly familiar that Louis doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Hi.” Louis manages to croak out the word, keeping his voice low. 

“Going to have to keep quiet for me, love.” Nick’s definitely enjoying himself, the gobby twat. Louis shouldn’t be half as endeared by that fact as he is. “Bit naughty having a wank with another bloke in the house.”

“ _Nick_.” Louis hisses his name, hoping his displeasure is sufficiently clear. The _naughty_ sends an unexpected jolt of pleasure through him and he can’t believe he’s doing this.

“Okay, darling. I’ll sort you out,” Nick says.

His voice is light, reassuring and everything in the room gets a little bit warmer. Louis slides his hand over his cock and bites back a groan.

“Let me hear you, pet.” Nick’s voice is rougher than it usually is on the radio. There’s a rustle as if he’s moving. Louis wonders where Nick is. He wonders if Nick’s touching himself too. The thought makes his prick jump in his hand and he can’t help but imagine how much better it would feel with Nick’s hand on his cock. 

“’kay.” Louis keeps his voice level, hoping to fuck Nick doesn’t recognise it.

“You’ve got a gorgeous body.” Nick’s voice is low and seductive. “I could do all sorts of things with you.”

“Like what?” Louis knows he sounds raspier than usual and thinks he’s probably safe. He’s so hard. Painfully aroused and desperate for Nick to be there in person, showing Louis how it feels to be fucked.

“I’d like to use my fingers on you, love. Slide them inside you. Get you nice and ready for my cock. Bet you’ve got a gorgeous bum.”

Louis is quite pleased he came up with the _no speaking_ rule because the _nnngh_ he replies with is really all he can manage.

“You have, haven’t you?” Nick sounds breathless as he laughs, familiar and sexier than anything Louis has heard in a long time. “I’d suck you hard. Get that lovely cock in my mouth until you’re begging for it. I’d fuck you nice and hard, get you on your hands and knees. Do you like being on your knees, pet?”

“Mmm.” Louis thinks he might like it very much. He shoves his boxers down and hisses, as he moves his thumb over the head of his aching prick. There’s something so dirty about the cool air on his dick, the heat of his hand wrapped around it and the fact Nick can hear every _slap_ of skin and every grunt that Louis can’t hold back as arousal spirals through his body.

“ _Gorgeous_.” Nick sounds pleased with himself. He’s so fucking smug. Louis wants to get his hands on Nick and make him sound more ruffled, instead of easy and confident as if he talks fit boys to orgasm all the time. He probably does. “Faster now, love. Stroke that gorgeous prick for me. Imagine my tongue on you. I’d keep you in my bed all day and fuck you in every position. Have you sit in my lap and take my cock.”

It’s all too much for Louis. He’s mortified at the speed with which Nick brings him to the edge. He pulses all over his fingers and groans into the phone, his breathing heavy. He curses under his breath and Nick laughs again, softly and without any sharpness. He’s not laughing at Louis. It’s warm and encouraging, like Nick’s happy that Louis came instead of taking the piss out of him for being quick off the mark.

“Lovely. That good for you, love?” Nick sounds like he knows very well it was good for Louis.

“Yeah.” Louis swallows. He hangs up the phone, his hands shaking. He takes a quick picture of his stomach, sticky with his come. He sends it to Nick and then goes to the bathroom on shaky legs, splashing cold water on his face. _Christ_. He’s just let Nick Grimshaw talk him to orgasm. He’s sent Nick a picture of himself before and after wanking. Louis can’t stop shaking and he downs a glass and a half of water before wiping himself clean with a towel and going back into the room. He finally composes himself enough to send back another message.

_sorry – flatmate_

**it’s okay**. Nick adds a winky emoji as if he isn’t sure he believes Louis. 

_thanks_

Louis isn’t sure what the etiquette is. Maybe Nick wanted to get off too and Louis just…hung up on him. His cheeks are hot, and he tugs on his joggers, getting under the duvet. He has no bloody idea what he’s doing. None at all.

**fancy letting me take you out for dinner?**

**or don’t you do that?**

Louis stares at the message, his heart picking up speed. A wild recklessness takes over him and he types back quickly.

_I do that_

Louis takes a breath, types out his next reply and puts his phone face down on the table. He squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see any more messages or deal with everything he’s just done.

_just tell me where and when mate_

Fuck. _Fuck_.

It’s a long time before Louis finally sleeps.

*

It’s another rainy night in London. The cool air vibrates with the beat of music from nearby clubs and Hackney cabs swish through the puddles as they negotiate their way through packed West End streets. Car horns beep as the traffic gets snarled up, the roads a dizzying array of red brake lights and fluorescent lamplight. The dark pavements are slick with rain and people having a smoke outside the pubs huddle together under small awnings. Louis tugs his baseball cap down on his head and keeps his eyes on the floor. He doesn’t want to be recognised. His skin crawls with the thought of being spotted and not for the first time he wonders what the fuck he’s doing. It’s a big mistake, going to meet someone he barely knows just because he’s horny, lonely and antsy.

He stops outside _La Bodega Negra_ with its dark frontage and signs that make it look more like a sex shop than a trendy London restaurant. _Girls, Girls, Girls_ , the neon signs say. Louis pulls a face, wondering if even the restaurant is judging him. He tries to ignore the way his stomach rolls. He’s not going to be able to eat anything at this rate. He pushes open the door and bows his head and mumbles Nick’s name under his breath when he’s asked if he’s made a booking. He keeps his head down as he’s led over to a mercifully secluded table. He pulls off his cap when he’s finally there and stares at Nick, his heart pounding. 

“Louis Tomlinson.” Nick looks confused, but not unhappy. He stands and shakes Louis’ hand. His fingers are warm, his hand large around Louis’. It does things to Louis’ insides, his heart hammering as he tries to yank his gaze away from Nick’s long fingers adorned with rings of various shapes and sizes. Nick doesn’t seem to notice Louis having a finger-related breakdown and smiles easily at him. 

“Here with that girlfriend of yours?” Nick leans closer conspiratorially, putting a friendly hand on Louis’ shoulders. Someone should tell Nick to stop waving his hands around all the time, because they’re practically pornographic. “I’m actually waiting for a date.”

Louis breathes, another wave of nausea crashing over him. Nick smells so good and he’s completely confident in his own skin. Probably because he’s used to meeting boys off the internet in restaurants all the time. The noise in Louis’ head is a dull roar and everything is just too hot, bright and loud. He could say _hello_ and go to a table of his own. He could watch Nick wait for the date that’s never going to come and pretend he’s been stood up too. A coincidence. There’s still time to get out of it. Instead, the devil on Louis’ shoulder says _now or never, mate_ and it feels like maybe it really is. He doubts Nick would be much interested in _Tom_ again, if the dickhead leaves him sitting on his own in a restaurant after he put on nice clothes and made the effort to get to know someone beyond shots of their jizz.

Louis takes a seat at Nick’s table, grateful that the waiter has left them to it. He fiddles with his cap, pointedly not wanting to study Nick too closely. He looks nice all dressed up. Handsome and funny and probably wondering what the fuck Louis is doing.

“I know you’ve got a date.” Finally, Louis looks up. Nick’s still hovering awkwardly, and people are starting to stare. Louis glares at him and mutters under his breath. “Sit the fuck down, will you?”

Nick looks like he wants to say something, but he does as Louis asks. He pours Louis a glass of wine and takes a gulp from his own glass like he might need to get drunk for this. Louis thinks they both might.

“No offence, but I don’t want to give this bloke I’m meeting the wrong impression.” Nick’s voice is a bit high and panicked. “He’s called Tom. Gorgeous body. In his twenties. Bit young for me, but—”

“Nicholas.” Louis’ cheeks are burning, and he can hardly look at Nick. “I _know._ ” His hands are shaking and he wants to slide under the table and disappear. 

“Louis?” Nick looks so confused, his cheeks getting pink.

Louis rubs his hands on his jeans. They’re clammy as fuck. “Tommo. Tom. Same difference.”

“No.” Nick shakes his head, his voice low and clipped. “Not same difference, Louis.”

Nick sounds pissed off. Louis swallows, wondering if Nick’s disappointed. He probably is. Nick thought he was meeting a gay man with loads of experience, not a closeted popstar with sweaty palms and a racing heart, who wants to be kissed and taken apart so desperately he’s already half hard just from the memory of Nick’s warm voice down the phone. _Do you like being on your knees, pet?_

“I’m not really blond. The body was mine, though.” Heat crawls through Louis and when he rubs his cheeks he can feel the heat of them against his fingertips. His voice is gravelly, and he’s convinced his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Why would he bring up the pictures? Louis can be such a twat. “The pictures were me,” he mutters, in case Nick still isn’t getting it.

Nick pats Louis’ hand awkwardly, his neck red and his mouth twisted as if he doesn’t know whether to laugh, shout or run for the hills. His fingers are long, his hand warm. “Fuck,” Nick says. “Fucking _hell_.”

“Yeah.” Louis downs his glass of wine and pours them another. He doesn’t even like wine. “Fucking hell.”

*

“Is this some kind of joke?” They order their food without speaking to one another and when the waiter leaves, Nick turns to Louis. His face is fixed in a frown and his lips are pressed together in a tight line. “Take the piss out of Grimmy, or summat.”

“No.” Louis shakes his head and he leans forward keeping his voice low. “Do you think I’d have come here if I was taking the piss?”

“No idea.” Nick doesn’t sound like he trusts much of anything Louis has to say at the moment. “I didn’t even know you were—”

“Well now you do.” Louis wonders if it’s bad form to order tequila. “Don’t go on about it.”

Nick laughs without humour, a slightly strangled snort. “Come on. What am I supposed to say?”

“Talk about the weather, I don’t know. Whatever you usually do with blokes.” Louis pulls a face.

“You don’t want me to do what I usually do with blokes, darling.” Nick stares at Louis and it feels like a challenge.

“I might,” Louis says.

Nick curses under his breath and has another gulp of his wine.

*

“You just trying something new?” Nick still sounds distrustful, watching Louis closely.

“Maybe.” Louis shrugs. It’s trying something he hasn’t had the nerve to do before, so maybe it is trying out something new. It’s just not _trying something new_ in the way Nick means it – like Louis just wants to get a shag and then forget all about the _liking dick_ thing. Dick. Nick. Nick’s dick. Louis’ cheeks get warm again as he remembers the last photo he sent to Nick. Nick’s not daft enough to send pictures of his knob to strangers on the internet, but even just imagining it was enough to make Louis hard and desperate. 

Nick takes a bite of his food, looking thoughtful. Eventually, he shrugs. “Okay.”

“What?”

“I’ve done this before.”

“Done what before?” Louis bristles because he has a feeling he’s not going to like where this is going.

“Been an experiment. Let people see if they like it.” Nick pokes at his food. “I thought it might be different this time, but it’s fine. If you need someone to try it with and don’t want it in the press, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t do me any favours, mate.” Louis glares at Nick. “I don’t need your charity fuck, and I’m not using you for an experiment.”

“Then _what_?” Nick’s voice raises. He takes a moment, visibly trying to calm himself as his jaw works. “This is mad. You’re not a stranger off the internet. Why did you even keep talking to me?”

Louis has asked himself that a thousand times and he’s not sure he’s ready to give Nick the answer, but the word _experiment_ hangs heavy between them and Louis wants Nick to know the truth. Needs him to know the truth.

“Because I like you,” Louis says. He pushes his plate away because he can’t eat when his stomach’s in knots. “I liked your profile picture.”

“Oh.” Nick looks like he can’t quite believe it and he stares at Louis. Eventually his lips curve into a small smile. “Didn’t like yours as much as the real thing.”

Louis pulls a face. “Give over.”

Nick shrugs. “Liked his body, though. The one in the texts, I mean. Yours, right? The bloke in the profile picture looked all posh and snooty. It’s why I put on the YSL.”

Something warm curls inside Louis’ belly and he swallows back a laugh, a smile tugging at his lips. “Not posh. Just a chav from Donny.”

“Yeah.” Nick’s properly smiling now, and he looks good enough to take Louis’ breath away. “Nothing wrong with Donny.”

“No,” Louis says. He’s not sure he’s still talking about Doncaster when he says, “Nothing wrong at all.”

*

“Do you do that a lot?” Louis pushes away his half-eaten food and points at Nick’s phone. “Call blokes off the internet?”

Nick raises an eyebrow at Louis. “Do you let strangers get you off over the phone a lot?”

Embarrassment worms through Louis and he stares at his plate. “Don’t start.”

“You were the one that brought it up.” Nick laughs, low in his throat. “Bit late to get all shy on me now.”

“Never,” Louis says. Everything is too hot and claustrophobic. He tugs at his jumper, pulling it away from his neck. “Only that once.” 

“Oh.” Nick’s voice softens. “I don’t do it often. Not for ages. Something about you had me intrigued. Leaping to my defence like a terrier and telling people off for using my picture. Besides, my friends are always telling me to get out there and meet someone.”

Louis laughs, his embarrassment easing a little. “Listening to someone wank is hardly getting out there.”

Nick laughs too and the sound is warm and comforting. “It got you out for dinner, didn’t it?”

“Probably only because you want me to do you back,” Louis replies. “Give a boy a nice meal, have him suck your cock.” He thinks he might be pissed, the wine making him bold and cheeky.

Nick sits back in his seat and he gives Louis a look, up and down. It makes everything feel more exposed and Louis’ throat gets dry. “What if that’s what I’m after?”

Louis hopes Nick doesn’t notice the tremble in his hands as he shakes his head. “Seems fair.”

Nick looks surprised. He studies Louis as if he’s trying to get a read on him. He leans forward, keeping his voice low. “How have you managed to keep this quiet for so long?”

Louis holds Nick’s gaze, his mouth dry. “Dunno. Just didn’t tell anyone that might blab it around. Me sisters know, some of the lads. The boys don’t know, not yet.” 

“Not one for the One-D WhatsApp I’m guessing.” Nick gives Louis a grin, before looking at him thoughtfully. “Nobody tried to sell a story?”

Louis twists his hands together and keeps his voice steady. “Nobody has a story to sell. Only girls. That sort of story never mattered, because it wasn’t the whole truth.”

“Oh.” Nick looks surprised. “So you haven’t, um.” He stops. There’s really no delicate way to ask if Louis has had sex with another bloke.

“Just you on the phone.” Louis shrugs. He gives Nick a look. “I’ve had sex, though. Obviously. Loads of times. It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I haven’t said a thing. Didn’t exactly think you lot were a load of nuns on tour, I get it.” Nick pauses. “You like girls too?”

Louis swallows and nods. “Yeah, I think so. Sometimes felt like something’s missing, though.” He carries on, hurriedly, the words spilling out of him in a defensive rush. “I’m not gay.”

“Okay.” Nick raises an eyebrow and the warmth leaves his face, his expression wary and closed once more. “Some of us are and we’re not even ashamed of it.” 

There’s a bitter edge in Nick’s tone that makes Louis wonder if maybe someone made Nick feel like he should be ashamed, once. The thought makes him angry.

“Don’t be a twat.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I mean I’m not, like, only interested in dick. That clear enough for you, mate?”

Nick laughs, his stormy expression clearing. “Got it, thanks. No details, please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Louis mutters. He shoots Nick a look, remembering his fake profile which definitely said _gay_. Not _bisexual_ , definitely not _still working it out to be honest_. Just _gay_. It feels like a lie now, and he doesn’t want to lie to Nick anymore. “Does it matter? I know it’s not what my profile said.”

“Your profile also said you were some big cheese in the music industry.” Nick takes a forkful of food and Louis has the distinct impression he’s being teased. “If I’d have known it was you, I’d have put on my Bieber t-shirt.”

“You would not,” Louis says, quite impressed by the idea. 

“Might.” Nick grins at Louis. He has a nice smile. Broad, warm and wide. Louis is fucked, honestly.

They make small talk surprisingly easily over dinner, managing to swerve any tricky conversations. Louis finds himself laughing enough that his sides ache and he’s pleased that Nick seems to be enjoying himself too. 

When they finish their food, Nick winks at Louis. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Louis wants to ask where they’re going, but another part of him just wants the night to stretch on into the morning and he likes not knowing.

Ready for anything, he almost says, but doesn’t.

*

Nick pays the bill, waving his hand when Louis gets out his wallet. Louis refuses to feel weird about it. Nick has loads of money. Not as much as Louis, but still. Loads. Nick shrugs on his coat at the doorway and rests his hand on the small of Louis’ back, a gentle touch which makes Louis shiver.

“This is mad,” Nick says.

“Yeah. It is a bit.” Louis keeps close to Nick as they leave and resists the urge to lean into him. Thankfully there are no photographers anywhere when they leave the restaurant which Louis takes to mean the staff can be trusted not to tip people off. He’s glad Nick knows what he’s doing because honestly, Louis wouldn’t have a clue. It’s been raining again, and the ground is slick with it, dark and reflective. Nick hails a cab with its light on and gives the driver directions, messing around with his phone before shoving it into his pocket.

“Checking your messages?” Louis wonders how many other sites Nick’s on, how many other boys there are.

“Checking Twitter to see if there’s any celebrity goss.” Nick gives Louis and easy smile. “I’m not on Grindr if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not.” Louis looks out of the window, the city blurred by the droplets of rain. “We off to some flash member’s club?”

Nick clears his throat. “I was going home.”

“Oh.” A lump rises in Louis’ throat and he wants to yell and kick things. Nick doesn’t want any part of this. Nick is used to boys who know what they want and who can eat dinner in a nice restaurant without wearing baseball caps and jumping out of their skin every time someone looks at them for too long. “It’s the wrong direction for me. Should have got another cab.”

Nick makes a _hmm_ sound in the back of the throat. “I thought you might come and meet the dogs.”

 _Oh_. Louis turns away from the window and looks at Nick. He’s smiling at Louis. “Is that the gay version of come in for coffee? Because I’m rubbish at that stuff.”

Nick laughs and he rolls his eyes at Louis. “Twat. It’s gay for meet my dogs, because they’re amazing.” Nick runs his tongue over his lips, flicking his eyes over Louis and then resting them back on his face. “If you want to do stuff we can. I’d be up for it, but I’m happy to have a beer and put on Match of the Day if you want to be a bit more laddy.”

“As if you watch Match of the Day,” Louis mutters.

“I could watch Match of the Day. I made a Christmas tree out of wood a couple of years back. I’m very manly. _Excellent_ with my hands.”

“I bet.” Louis glances at Nick’s hands and has to adjust himself and stare out of the window again. He’s pressed so close to the door he can feel the coldness from the glass against his skin. He tries to think about something other than Nick being good with his hands. 

“I’m not going to bite.” Nick sounds amused. The cab lights with the glow from his phone. “Here’s a photo of the tree, if you’re interested.”

Louis shuffles closer to Nick and peers at the screen. Nick looks good. He’s so self-assured, in a casual t-shirt with a jumper knotted over his shoulder. His tree is a weird plywood thing with a sparse selection of lights. Honestly, Louis isn’t sure what’s wrong with one of those plastic ones from Wilkos but it’s obviously something Nick’s proud of and Louis is working very hard on that _not being a dick_ thing.

“Bet it has some really arty meaning.” Louis looks at the picture of Nick and his tree again and it does funny things to his heart. “I like it.” He’s surprised to find he really does. “The Royal Academy of Arts sounds fancy.”

“It is.” Nick clicks off his phone and shoves it in his pocket. He puts his hand on Louis’ leg and leans in, his voice low as he speaks in Louis’ ear. “Like I said, I enjoy working with my hands.” 

“You must. You go on about it enough.” Louis knows his voice sounds slightly strangled. He closes his eyes because he’s embarrassed, and he thinks he’s going to shake out of his skin. “Nick…”

“You’re shaking,” Nick says. His voice is soft and low. He moves his hand from Louis’ leg and the skin underneath the spot his fingers touched tingles and burns. He sounds uncertain. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, should I?”

Louis shakes his head. He tries to steady his breathing and he finally forces himself to look at Nick. The shadows of the night and the lights of the city pass over Nick’s face. He looks concerned and Louis doesn’t want him to look like that. He doesn’t want Nick to treat him like some fragile, delicate thing. He doesn’t want Nick to know how desperate the slightest touch makes him feel or how the simple stroke of Nick’s fingers against his thigh makes his skin burn and his cock half hard. 

“Don’t keep them to yourself.” Louis glances at the driver in the rearview mirror. He’s not looking at either of them, muttering something about the _bloody traffic_ and keeping his eyes firmly on the road. “You might not be good at much else. Wouldn’t want all that talent to go to waste.”

Nick laughs, sounding delighted by Louis being a cheeky shit. “I’ll keep them to myself in the cab and see how we get on when we’re back at mine.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Louis thinks that’s a good idea because he’s about ready to crawl into Nick’s lap and snog his face off, and he doesn’t want to test an already pissed-off taxi driver’s response on his first night out with another bloke. He glances at Nick. “Am I right?”

“About what?” Nick raises his eyebrows at Louis.

“About you being crap at everything else,” Louis says. Nick just smiles and shakes his head, giving Louis a look that makes him nearly melt into the seat. Taking a breath, Louis mutters a curse under his breath and nudges Nick with his elbow. “Show us more pictures of that tree.”

“Okay.” Nick takes out his phone again and shows Louis some videos of him working on the tree as London rolls past.

*

Nick’s dogs are as delightful as promised and they love Louis, which shows they are also excellent judges of character. Louis fusses over them and goes out for a smoke with Nick as he lets them run around in the small garden waiting for them to have a wee.

“It’s stopped raining.” Louis looks up at the sky, his head tipped back. The air is still cool and the garden smells like damp grass and thunderstorms. Most of the stars are obliterated by clouds, not that you ever see many stars in London anyway. “Think there’s another storm coming, though.”

“Proper little meteorologist, aren’t you?” Nick blows a thin line of smoke out through his lips. “I hate the rain, me.”

“Doesn’t bother me.” Louis can’t say he’s thought much about it. It’s those hot California summers he hates. They remind him how far away he is from home and he can never sleep when it’s too warm. The rain makes him think of Donny, footie season and going to school in a shit uniform, dreaming about being famous. 

Nick stubs his cigarette out and puts it in a pot that the dogs can’t get to. He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances at Louis. “Alright?”

“Suppose.” Louis isn’t sure he is alright. He puts out his cigarette and drops it in the same pot as Nick’s. He’s tempted to light another one just because when he’s not smoking he doesn’t have a clue what to do with his hands. Remembering his phone call with Nick sends a flash of heat through him and he looks away. “I think so.”

“Want to go inside?” Nick’s voice is low, his hand on Louis’ arm. Those bloody hands are going to be the death of Louis at this rate. If a hand on his arm is enough to get him needy and desperate, he’s not sure how he’s going to cope with anything else.

Louis wets his lips and shrugs. “Maybe. Can do.” He doesn’t know if inside means telly and beer or bed and shagging. He’s not sure what he wants it to mean. He looks at Nick’s hand on his arm and turns to Nick, their faces close. It’s starting to rain again but there’s something soothing about it and the way the first drops cool Louis’ hot cheeks. 

It’s not obvious who instigates the kiss, but in one breath it goes from Louis tasting London rain on his lips to the insistent pressure of Nick’s mouth against his. Louis has lost track of kisses over the years, but this is different. Louis gets harder quicker than usual, for a start. His body flushes with heat and he pushes against Nick. It’s rougher, like Nick’s just as hungry for the kiss as Louis is. Louis hasn’t ever felt particularly submissive, but there’s something about the newness of it all that makes Louis want to yield control to Nick—to let him do whatever he wants to Louis. 

He’s never felt this before. The desire that claws through him confuses him even more than the fact he’s kissing another man, because he’s had a long time to figure out that it’s really _okay_. The truth is that Nick brings out some desires that Louis has kept squirrelled away for a long time. Needs that go far beyond _maybe I like cock_. Louis groans as Nick pulls him tightly against his body. The rain is heavier now and it leaves Louis damp and shivering as he hauls Nick deep into the kiss, their mouths fused together until the dogs start jumping up and barking like they want to know what game Nick and Louis are playing.

Louis pulls back, breathless and strokes Pig as she puts her paws on his leg and _ruffs_ at him. He never once takes his eyes off Nick. Nick looks as well-kissed as Louis expects he probably does, with his hair askew and his cheeks and neck flushed. 

“Suppose we should go inside.” A gust of icy wind makes Louis shiver and he’s conscious he’s wet, cold and already missing the warmth of Nick’s lips.

“Come on.” Nick opens the door and lets the dogs inside first. He takes them into another room, presumably putting them to bed, and closes the door. He locks the patio shut and gives Louis a wink. “I’d say you should get out of those wet clothes but it’s a bit cheesy, innit?”

Louis looks down at his t-shirt and with his heart hammering in his chest he shrugs. He pulls off his t-shirt, undoes his trousers and dumps them both in a damp pile on the floor.

Nick looks like he doesn’t know whether to tell Louis off for making a mess or haul him off to the bedroom. “You’re a menace,” he decides, faintly. 

Nick holds Louis’ gaze for a moment, then he tugs off his own t-shirt, adding it to Louis’ messy pile. He crosses the room towards Louis and pulls them both onto the sofa, settling over Louis. At least his trousers aren’t that damp and unlike Louis who’s currently sporting a very unsexy boxers and white sports socks combo, he looks fit as fuck without his shirt on, barefoot and still wearing his nice jeans. 

Nick doesn’t seem to find Louis’ outfit unsexy at all. He gives Louis a dark-eyed stare and then captures his lips in another hot, filthy kiss. He’s definitely turned on, the hardness of his cock inside his jeans more obvious now Louis is close to stark bollock naked. A surge of pride at making Nick horny gives Louis the confidence to pull Nick closer and kiss him hungrily. 

“Okay?” Nick pulls back after another deep kiss and gives Louis a questioning smile. He has his hand on Louis’ cheek, his thumb brushing against it. It only serves to remind Louis that he has something of a fetish for Nick Grimshaw’s hands. Typical Tommo, never doing things the easy way.

“What do you reckon?” Louis grinds into Nick to make his point that he’s more than okay. He’s aching hard and his horniness is enough to make him bolder, even as his cheeks heat. “Fancy showing me what you can do with those hands of yours as you’ve been showing off about them all night?”

Nick’s eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Louis pulls a face, wondering if he’s said something stupid. “Unless that’s not a thing. The blokes seem to like it in pornos.”

Nick’s eyebrows get even higher. “That’s what you watch? Fingering porn?”

“Don’t go on about it,” Louis mutters. “I watch a lot of porn of all varieties,” he adds, a little pompously for a confession that suggests he does a lot of wanking. It’s not like PornHub is exactly arthouse. Nick probably watches porn with subtitles and people tossing off to Gucci’s Autumn/Winter collection.

“I bet you do,” Nick says, roughly. He slips a hand under Louis’ backside and squeezes it through the cotton of his boxers. “But you like the fingering stuff?” Nick’s voice is gruff, his eyes dark as he squeezes his hand again. “Like the idea of being fingered until you come? Get you nice and slick with lube, darling. Finger you good and hard.”

“ _Christ_.” Louis nearly swallows his tongue. Nick’s enormous hand on his bum and the filthy edge to his familiar radio voice goes straight to Louis’ cock. “Yeah, yes. That.”

Nick moves off Louis and disappears into another room, which is fucking rude. Louis props himself up on his elbows and wonders what he’s supposed to do now. If Nick doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to have to have a wank to take the edge off. Right here on Nick’s nice sofa. That’ll teach him to wander off mid-way through a discussion that’s left Louis restless, blindingly hard and ready to do just about anything that’s going to get him off. 

When Nick returns, he’s changed out of his jeans into a pair of cosy jogging bottoms and he’s carrying a bottle of something and a slim toy that makes Louis bite back a groan.

“You kinky fucker,” Louis says. He’s not cross about it in the slightest.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Nick grins at Louis. “I can spank you and have you call me Daddy, if you like.”

“ _Nick_.” Louis bites back a groan and Nick’s eyes widen. He laughs under his breath.

“Yeah? Next time, love. Whenever you want.”

Louis glares at Nick for being such a tease and palms himself through his boxers.

“It’s a bit rude to leave a boy waiting while you go and get comfy, Nicholas. I nearly finished myself off, made a snack, got myself a beer.”

Nick snorts. “I wasn’t that long, give over.” Finally he returns to the sofa and snaps the waistband of Louis’ boxers as he gives him a slow, filthy kiss. “Get these off, then.”

“You’re just going to be in your trackies?”

“For a bit.”

“ _Fine_.” Louis tugs off his boxers and lobs them on an expensive looking book on Nick’s coffee table. He smirks at Nick. “Better?”

“You’re a monster.” Nick shakes his head and uncorks the lube, moving his miniature collection of sex paraphernalia somewhere out of Louis’ eyeline. “The thing is.” He gets Louis into an easily accessible position with some cushions and rubs his thumb over Louis’ hole. The lube is freezing, and the pad of Nick’s thumb sends sparks of pleasure through Louis. “The thing is, I like that porn too. The finger banging stuff.”

“Bet you do,” Louis mutters. He closes his eyes and clutches onto the side of the sofa as Nick teases him, sliding slick fingers along his crack and rubbing slow circles around his rim. He’s ready to shake out of his skin and he wonders if Nick can sense it, Louis tightly wound like a spring, restless and eager for a boy to finger him. It would be embarrassing if Louis didn’t have the reassurance that Nick knows what he’s doing, is probably good at it and won’t be a dick. “I’m glad you’re not some stranger from Grindr,” Louis manages. 

“I’m glad I’m not too.” Nick’s expression flickers with something that looks almost possessive, but Louis dismisses it because Nick can’t feel like that about Louis. Not when Louis is a mess of conflicted emotions, a load of issues and doesn’t have half the sass and charm of Nick’s other men. Nick slides one finger slowly into Louis and murmurs against his lips. “I’m glad you’re you, too.”

Louis should respond to that, but all he can manage is _nngh_. Nick’s finger inside him feels weird but not unpleasant. He decides to close his eyes, stretch out and concentrate on getting fucked in the way that’s occupied a lot of his latest solo sessions.

Nick doesn’t just get on with fingering Louis. He seems to want to take his time, pushing inside him with aching slowness. He fingers him slowly as he bites on the hard nub of Louis’ nipples and slides his tongue over the stiff points of them. He kisses Louis’ neck, his breath rough and harsh on Louis’ skin. He adds more lube and slides a second finger into Louis, dragging them back just a little. It hits the spot and Louis groans, fisting his hand in one of Nick’s posh cushions. He blinks his eyes open and Nick has a strange expression on his face, fond, aroused and almost surprised. 

“S’good,” Louis manages.

“Yeah?” Nick looks pleased with himself. He fucks his fingers into Louis with another thrust and _god_ , it's so good. Louis captures Nick's mouth in a messy, filthy kiss and sinks into the sensation of Nick's fingers inside him until he's practically writhing on Nick's hand, soft grunts of pleasure leaving his parted lips. Just when Louis thinks he's going to lose it completely, Nick slips his fingers out of Louis and trails his fingers along Louis’ crack. “Want to try the toy?”

“Dunno where it’s been,” Louis says. “But yes.”

Nick laughs. “Cheeky little shit. It’s new, actually.”

“Yeah, yeah. I bet it is.” Louis watches as Nick slicks the toy and he collapses back on the bed when Nick settles in between his legs. “Nick?”

“Yes, darling?”

Louis swallows, building up his nerve. “I want it to be your fingers. When I come.”

Nick shakes his head and mutters a curse under his breath, his smile wide. “You’ll just have to be a good boy then won’t you, pet? Hold on a bit.”

The thought of being a _good boy_ makes Louis groan and he nods. “I can do that. I’m very good, me.”

“You are not.” Nick slides the slim toy inside Louis, his voice gruff. “But you can be for me, can’t you love?”

“Yes— _fuck_.” Louis decides he’s going to have to give up talking, particularly when the toy inside him seems to have exactly the right curve to put pressure in all the right places. He arches off the sofa and pants, a light sheen of sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. 

“You’re so lovely.” Nick works the toy inside Louis, his voice muffled as he gets between Louis’ legs. When he starts mouthing at Louis’ balls everything gets too much and it’s all Louis can do to hold himself back—to be good like Nick asked. It’s almost painful trying not to come and when Nick licks over the sensitive slit of his cock he has to push at Nick’s arm.

“No, stop.” Louis gulps in a breath. “Close, gonna…”

“Come?” Nick sounds extra smug and he slips the toy from Louis’ body. Louis misses the sensation of being filled already. He wraps his hand around Louis’ cock and squeezes the base of it, before giving it a slow stroke. “You can come for me, pet. Whenever you want. You’ve been such a good boy, waiting this long.”

Louis wants to say something sarcastic about waiting for Nick to change his fucking clothes, but his body is suddenly overwhelmed with the combined sensation of Nick sliding two cold, lube-slick fingers into his body and taking Louis’ cock in his mouth. The combined sensation is so much—too much—it brings Louis crashing over the edge as his orgasm burns through him, sharp and dizzying.

Nick slides off Louis and wipes his mouth. He drops a hand to his joggers and squeezes his cock, which Louis can see is hard—and massive. Clearly every one of Nick’s appendages have been designed to drive Louis mental. 

Louis licks his lips and watches Nick through lidded eyes. Jesus, he’s practically seeing stars. 

“What happened to buying a boy a nice meal and having him suck your cock?”

Nick slides his hand off himself and he groans. “Sure?” His neck flushes red. “I’m not far off.”

“Good, you should be close after fucking me like that.” Louis manages a cheeky grin and shifts off the sofa, onto the floor. He settles between Nick’s legs and helps him tug his joggers off. “No pants, Nick. Saucy.”

“I’m easy for a good-looking boy with a Donny accent,” Nick replies. He grins at Louis and brushes his sweaty hair from his face. “Did it live up to those pornos of yours?”

Louis laughs. “You’re always looking for compliments.”

“I’ve got a huge ego, darling.”

“You’ve got a huge something,” Louis says. It makes Nick laugh and everything is hot and brilliant. “Head, Nick. You've got a big head, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Not that easy when Louis Tomlinson’s on his knees,” Nick replies.

“Better believe it.” Louis feels a surge of pride and he takes a breath. He’s never done this before and he might be rubbish at it, but Nick looks like he’s just as turned on as he makes Louis. 

It’s mouth-watering being this close to Nick’s dick, finally getting to taste the salty tip of it, the girth stretching his lips as he swallows down as much as he can. He’s been reading a lot of blow job tips, and he has some idea what to do and what not to do. He works his mouth over Nick’s prick, the ache in his jaw a pleasant reminder of what they’re doing. 

It doesn’t take long for Nick to give Louis’ hair a tug and Louis pulls back, watching Nick give himself a couple of quick pulls before he comes over Louis’ neck and chin with a grunt of pleasure. 

Louis sits back on his heels, well aware he’s wearing a smug look on his face, even if he is covered in Nick Grimshaw’s come.

His chest swells, and Louis can’t remember the last time he felt this happy. It’s like he’s been given wings, and after months of stumbling around he can finally fly.

*

**Three Months Later**

It’s raining, as it always is in London, when the paps follow Louis up Nick’s drive to the front door of his house. Muttering a curse, Louis fires off a text warning Nick not to answer the door in his boxers or something and waits impatiently. As Nick opens the door the cameras flash and the paps start yelling questions, but Louis just slips inside and Nick closes the door quickly behind him. 

“Sorry, mate.” Louis yanks off his baseball cap. “Paps are twats.”

“I remember.” Nick runs his tongue over his lips and gives Louis a careful look. “I don’t care about them. I wish they’d fuck off because they’re scaring the dogs, but it’s not, like, a big thing for me. They’ll leave us alone soon enough—we can try to get Harry to do something, that’ll distract ‘em.

Louis snorts, knowing Nick’s joking. “It’s shit.” He frowns when Pig comes in with her tail between her legs and shakes his head. “It’s not fair, look at her.”

“She’s okay, aren’t you, darling?” Nick strokes her head and she noses at him before bounding off into another room. “See? Right as rain.”

Louis puts his coat on the hook just inside the door—he’s learning—and makes his way into the living room, kicking off his trainers and dropping onto the sofa with a thud. Even though it feels like ages ago now, his stomach still squirms pleasantly at the memory of the first night on this sofa. He glances at Nick’s hands and a heat rises in his cheeks. From Nick’s smug look, he can tell he’s been clocked staring.

“Something on your mind, love?” Nick joins Louis on the sofa and stretches an arm across the back of it. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh piss off.” Louis rolls his eyes and tries to maintain his high-ground, as if he hasn’t just been getting half-hard to the thought of Nick finger fucking him. “You and those stupid hands of yours.”

“Hmm.” Nick puts one of said hands on Louis’ shoulder and squeezes. “We’re probably going to have to stop in for a bit with that lot outside.”

Louis winces. “Yeah. They’ll naff off soon. It’s just new, innit?”

“Yeah, it’s new.” Nick gives Louis a serious look. “How are you?”

“I’m not getting over a cold or summat, I’m just dandy thanks, Nicholas.” Louis’ lips tighten and then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. It’s fine. I hate it when they’re like this, but they’ll fuck off after a while. That one off that film you like with the French name will do something, or Britney might make a comeback. Nobody will give a shit about some British DJ and a kid that used to be in a boyband.”

“Hey.” Nick ruffles Louis’ hair and pulls him into his lap so they’re facing one another. “None of that _kid that used to be in a boyband_ crap about my boyfriend.”

It makes Louis hot all over when Nick calls him that. He can’t believe how mad it’s been since that first night. It went from texting every day to weekends in the country, to Nick wearing Louis’ jumper on the radio and talking about the dogs eating his boyfriend’s socks. Twitter broke it in the end, not that Nick and Louis had been hiding particularly. Louis didn’t want to make some big announcement and he knew that one day they’d post a photo or do something that would make someone, somewhere put two and two together. _Leave it to someone else to work it out_ , he said one night to Nick, eating a plate of chicken nuggets as Nick tucked into something green with quinoa. _I’m not planning any interviews for a bit but I’m ready to do them when I need to. I’m not scared._

That was a lie and they both knew it, but there was also a kernel of truth in it. Louis _was_ ready, and the fear had shifted from the kind of nerves that made him want to throw up and lock his feelings away to a steely determination to face any bollocks head on. He’d already told the people that mattered ages ago, even though Nick came as something of a surprise to most. Payno nearly choked on his Unagi or whatever the fuck. _That’s what you get for eating raw fish, mate. Should have taken it easy on the wasabi, goes down the wrong way, that_. Louis knows he’s a terror but there was a part of him that quite liked shocking the boys—he made a point of telling Nialler _I’m knobbing Grimmy_ as he was swinging for an important golfing shot. He sent Zayn a text ( _cool, bro_ ) and Nick told Harry. They thought it was better like that. Nick says Louis has the air of the Liam Gallaghers about him sometimes, which Louis takes as a compliment of the highest order even if Nick meant it as an insult.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Nick laughs, the way he does when he’s trying to pretend he isn’t bothered about something that’s bothering him. “Bet you’re starting to think it’s not worth it after all this.”

“You’re so stupid.” Louis glares at Nick. “Stop, will you?”

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything, me.”

“You’re being a twat,” Louis says, not unkindly. There’s a fondness in his tone that creeps in when he’s talking to Nick. “Fancy a trip to Donny at the weekend?”

Nick’s smile makes Louis warm all over. “Can do. We can get chips.”

“Pie and chips,” Louis decides. “They don’t do avocados in Donny.”

Nick leans in and gives Louis a soft, sweet kiss. They pull apart and Louis pats the sofa. 

“Remember that night?” They’ve done loads of stuff since, obviously. Shagged in every room, given one another languid blow jobs when the telly flickers in the background, had sex in all kinds of positions (Nick’s weirdly bendy, it turns out) but they haven’t had a repeat of that first night, and Louis decides it’s long overdue. 

“Yeah.” Nick puts one of his ridiculous hands on Louis’ knee and squeezes it firmly. “It was alright, that.”

“Better than alright.” Louis glances at Nick’s hand a thrum of arousal warming his body. “I liked it. You’ve got stupid hands, but you know how to use them.”

“I’m very talented. It’s all that radio I’ve been doing.” Nick’s voice lowers, and he pushes Louis back on the sofa, settling over him. “Fancy a tumble, love?”

“Mmm.” Louis pulls Nick into a heated kiss, breathless and very, very horny when he pulls away. “Go on then.”

Nick’s hands are every bit as brilliant as Louis remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> [HP tumblr](https://writcraft.tumblr.com/) || [1D/Radio 1 tumblr](https://writsgrimmyblog.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post here](https://writsgrimmyblog.tumblr.com/post/182018453085/london-rain-by-writcraft-nick-grimshawlouis)


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